Belly Up in the Desert
by BuJyo
Summary: A Mary/Marshall introspective with a twist...always need a twist! Both M/M have language warnings attached...but otherwise rated T. They both wrestle with inner demons. ** Final Chapter posted **
1. Chapter 1

***** These two won't stop fighting...ouch. I don't own the characters, and there are spoilers throughout so you are warned.*****

The wedding was two months away and her stomach hurt every morning as she saw the planning magazines on the table and countertops, the little cake samples in the freezer that she told Raph she'd try this weekend, and that damn ring. She never wore it at work now, didn't even keep it in her pocket anymore because it hurt him. Marshall didn't know it, but he involuntarily flinched every time he saw it and it broke her heart. She had no joy in this wedding any longer, no joy in this relationship and she didn't know what to do. No, that wasn't right, she **did** know what to do, but was too afraid and too proud to do it. Mary was so angry at herself for her own hesitations and self deception that she lashed out at all who stood before her and tried to make her see herself.

It was one of their horrible fights. The kind that just gets nasty and hurtful, each trying to dig the knife in a little deeper to see who will bleed first. Unfortunately, Mary was too good at it and usually won, then walked away more wounded from her own self inflicted torture as she relived her ill conceived victory than from the arrows launched during the event itself.

They were at the office past five, just the two of them, and Marshall asked a simple question.

"Is it all right if I bring someone to the wedding?" he tossed it out casually, eyes on his paperwork.

Mary was stunned, and her stomach clenched for some reason, "Oh. Well, yeah…sure. You have someone in mind or are you going to cruise the street corners on the way to the church?"

Still studying his forms, Marshall replied, "I've been seeing someone for a few weeks and I think it might stick for a while."

She was now just staring at him, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought about it, but then decided it was none of your damn business."

It was the same line she used on him when they fought about her telling Raph she was a WITSEC inspector, and it hit her now in the same way it must've hit him them. She felt completely dismissed and shut out.

"Fine. If you're going to be an ass about it then, no, you can't bring her to the wedding." she lashed out with hurt feelings.

He looked up at her with that expression of forced tolerance on his face, "I was only asking to be polite, Mare. My invitation said 'and guest' so I don't actually need your permission." He hadn't opened the invitation yet and it just sat on the counter.

Mary turned in her chair to face him, "Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what? Like a person who is frustrated that his best friend is making the worst mistake of her life?" He threw his hands into the air and let them fall to the desk with a slam. Just couldn't keep his mouth shut anymore.

He had hinted at it before, but this was the first time she had heard the words come out of his mouth. "Marshall, we've talked about this. It's not a mistake, it's what I want…he's a good man."

"It may be what you want, but it's not **who** you want. I see it in your face everyday when he calls, or when he reaches out to touch you. You don't even carry your ring around anymore. I'll say it again; you've painted yourself into a corner on purpose, because it would be too hard to back out now, and God forbid anyone would think Mary Shannon makes mistakes." He had actually raised his voice slightly, and she saw him mentally regroup.

"Jesus, Marshall, get off your high horse. My whole relationship with Raph has stuck in your craw since the get go. The man has done nothing wrong and you've lumped him in with the other crap we have to deal with. It's like you can't find a single redeeming characteristic about him…like you want him to screw up and fail. What is your fucking problem?" She was getting angrier because she knew he was right and had been wondering about the underlying reasons for Marshall's increasingly foul moods as the wedding got closer.

Marshall leaned across his desk with an incredulous look on his face, "Done nothing wrong? For God's sake, Mare, the man cheated on you at least once, manipulated you into agreeing to marry him, didn't even shed a tear when you were shot and hired a crew to fix your house when you were laid up even though you expressly forbid it. The warning signs are right in front of you! What's it going to take to make you take the God damn blindfold off?"

She was on her feet now, not wanting to hear this, "So he's not the best decision maker and doesn't get all weepy in a crisis. That doesn't mean he doesn't care about me, asshole. He wants to make me happy. What the fuck is wrong with that?"

Marshall surged to his feet and began to pace, "God, Mare…when are you going to quit lying to yourself? Quit lying to everybody? If the man actually cared about you he'd be able to look at you and see how miserable you are! He wants to make a woman happy, but he has no idea how to make **you** happy. He will **never** know how to make **you** happy…because he has no desire to know who you really are." He actually pounded his fist on the desk once or twice to emphasize his point.

"I'm not miserable, asswipe! You know I'm a bitch when I have a lot going on, and there's just too many things hitting me at once right now. This is not helping! Why are you doing this? So what if he doesn't always know how to trip my trigger…at least he tries. That's more than any other man has ever done."

"And what sort of comparison are you using there? Jesus, Mare, you bang them and walk away…not exactly a lot of time for anyone to try to do anything except put their underwear back on! So you decided Raph was the man of your dreams because he was too big a pussy to tell you to take a hike when you kicked him to the curb the first time? He's stupid enough to crawl back and that's your definition of trying to make you happy? That's fucking pathetic!" Marshall was mad…really mad and almost yelling.

Mary's head was swimming in confusion, hurt and anger. The things her partner was saying were true, but she didn't want to hear them or believe them. She felt tears gathering in her eyes and was running out of excuses to counter his accusations, so she turned to barbs instead.

"You're saying I'm a pathetic liar, Marshall? That's what you think of me? Just because your little idea of what makes Mary happy is challenged you decide I'm at fault? Maybe you ought to look at your own pathetic life a little more closely. At least I have someone who loves me!" She was gratified and mortified by the look on his face at the same time.

He took a few deep breaths and said quietly, "Do you really hate yourself that much?" He came to stand just a few feet in front of her before continuing, "That you would accept unhappiness for yourself and force misery on a man who loves you in order to punish yourself for sins that aren't even yours?"

She knew there were tears on her face now and the fury wrapped around her as he hit the issue on the head, "Don't you dare tell me what sins I have to atone for or what happiness I deserve or don't deserve. You have no right."

He just stared at her, a silent plea in his eyes, then whispered, "I can't watch you do this, Mare…I just can't."

Her gut twisted and she wanted to pour out every doubt and regret and ask for his help, but she could not let go, "Then close your eyes, fuckwit. It's the only way you won't see it." Mary pushed by him and stormed out of the office. He stood there for a long time before slowly heading home.

***** *sniff* You just know there will be ramifications for this. Let me know what you think so far! *****


	2. Chapter 2

***** Now they have to live with themselves. The next few chapters are Mary's POV. Beware of spoilers *****

Mary cried all the way home, the Probe stalling twice only adding to her anger and frustration. Raph's car was in the driveway and she just sat in her car for a few minutes with her head resting on the steering wheel. She didn't want to see him, didn't want to deal with his gentle questioning and soft, liquid eyes as he would follow her around and try to physically comfort her. It just aggravated her and made her want to punch a wall…or him. He didn't know what she needed when she was like this, didn't know how to comfort her… "_Oh God_," she thought in dismay, "_Marshall was right. He doesn't know me at all._"

Marshall's assessment of her self loathing nearly brought her to her knees and Mary wondered how he knew. Wondered if they both punished themselves and were drawn to each other in some psychic recognition of a fellow tortured soul. So much death and disappointment in both their lives that the hope of happiness and the desire for love somehow got twisted into scrounging for scraps of affection and sloppy seconds. Why did she think she didn't deserve more? Feel as though being happy was somehow wrong and selfish? Mary shook her head at herself as she realized the one person who actually made her truly happy was the same person she regularly ground underneath her heel in order to stuff those feelings back down. If he hurt, then she hurt, and she knew how to live with hurt…it was happiness and joy that fucked her up.

He was right, she knew, that she was not only barreling into unhappiness herself but that she was dragging Raph with her. It was not right to subject the man to a life a misery with her, and she had no doubt it would come to that. She was not going to change and he would never stop trying to change her. Mary had a ferociously strong sense of honor and strove to do the right thing by others at nearly any cost to herself. The downside was that she often lacked the empathy to understand why her actions weren't accepted with the gratitude she expected. She understood pain and sorrow, frustration and grief and sympathized with those experiencing them, but more often than not, she didn't feel with them and her agenda was set no matter the situation. Marshall's words made her finally realize that this was not just about her sense of commitment…it was about forcing another human being, a person who loved her, to fold themselves up and try to fit into her mold. She couldn't do that to Raph. It would eat at her until she was hollow and bitter, only increasing Raph's misery over time.

"Oh, shit," she whispered, resting her head back on the seat, "I've got to tell him I can't do this. Not now…maybe never. It's killing me…and it's killing Marshall, and I can't let it spread to Raphael too." It wasn't that Mary didn't want to admit she had made a mistake, she was wrong a lot of the time and it didn't usually bother her. She honestly didn't want to hurt Raph, especially after yanking him along in her personal swamp of emotional muck for so long. He had trudged behind her and nearly drowned before she pulled him free, and she felt like breaking the engagement would just stuff him headfirst back into the slime. Maybe she should think of it as finally giving him a boat with some oars to get free and glide back out to clearer waters. That made her feel a little better…giving him an escape route. She took a deep breath and rehearsed what she would say, knowing she'd have to hold true to her desire to end this now, no matter how guilty she was going to feel. Amazingly, there seemed to be a lightness of burden with this decision and she calmed.

It was getting too warm in the car and she reluctantly slid out and headed up the walk. The house was quiet when she entered, and she figured Raph must be out by the pool. She tossed her badge and cuffs in the drawer and turned to head to the bedroom to stash her gun when she heard a woman's giggle. She felt her blood chill and her breathing speed up as her gut knew…just knew. Feeling like a character in a horror movie and knowing the monster was behind the door she was going to open, she slowly made her way back to the bedroom and stood in front of the closed door. Maybe it was just the radio, maybe her mind was just playing tricks on her because of the fight with Marshall, or maybe she should just open the door.

Turning the knob, she swung the door inward and stared at the scene before her; brain in observe mode only and taking in details without thought or commentary. The woman was blond like Mary, but tiny and skinny and her breasts were fake. Raph had an expression of surprise mixed with horror on his face as his hands gripped the woman's hips. He had changed the sheets on the bed like she had asked earlier this morning and put on her favorite green ones. The woman said something in Spanish and Raph rolled her off as he pulled the sheets against himself to sit up and face Mary.

"You're home early, Mary." he stammered.

"I don't really think that's relevant, Raph." her voice sounded odd, even to herself. "Please pack up your things and leave my house. Take her with you."

Mary walked back down the hallway feeling numb. There were spots dancing in front of her eyes and the scene in the bedroom played over and over like a bad home movie without a soundtrack. If she hadn't come home when she did, she never would've known. Her hands were icy cold and her cheeks aflame with mortification as she leaned on the table in the front hall and shook. Hearing him come down the hallway, she warned him as he approached.

"Raphael, before you think about speaking to me or touching me, let me inform you that I am still armed."

"Mary, querida…let me…" he stopped and held his hands in front of him as she laid her hand on her weapon.

"There is nothing you could say or do to make this right. Nothing…ever. All this time, especially today, I have defended you and chastised myself. I will now look like a fool, and I want you out of my house by the time I get home, and every single piece of anything that's yours goes with you." Mary knew not to look at him because she was not sure she wouldn't hurt him.

She grabbed her shield from the drawer and walked out the front door. Entering the garage, she opened the box of rock salt and dug down until her hand gripped the bottle of whiskey secreted away. It was the expensive kind, the kind she would usually share with Marshall. Swiping at tears now as her emotions began to stutter back to life, she tossed the bottle into the passenger seat, swore and cursed the Probe to questionable life, and peeled out of the driveway down the street.

Mary was halfway there before she realized she had no place to go and pulled the car over to sit idling at the curb in an unknown neighborhood. She couldn't run to Marshall this time, couldn't hand him this victory on a platter. He was not one to say I told you so, but she was less inclined to admit defeat or appear the fool right to his face. Her usual refuge and sanctuary was destined to be exquisite torture and she refused to subject herself to it…refused to look at herself that closely yet.

For reasons unknown, the phrase 'rode into the sunset' popped into her mind and she grinned. It seemed apropos, her chasing the light into darkness, so she decided to turn the car west and drive until the sun was down, then drink herself into forgetfulness. A shred of rationality hit her, and she locked her gun and badge in the box under her seat before embarking on this little adventure. Her phone rang for the fourth time as Raph tried to reach her and she reached down to turn it off, then locked it in the box too. "_Fuck them all!_" she silently declared, her resolve set with plans to reconnect with the rest of the world tomorrow after the hangover wore off.

Two hours later, driving randomly and taking whatever road seemed to continue towards the rays of sunset, Mary found herself speeding through the high desert on a twisted and sketchy dirt road with the windows down and tears smearing the dust on her face. The demons of humiliation and rage chasing her. The Probe was unequipped to handle a paved road on a good day, and the abuse forced on it now caused it to raise its arms in surrender. The next gully broke something important and Mary braked as the car shimmied mightily and spun to the right. It stopped, tilted to the side and then it was a slow slide down the fifteen foot embankment into the arroyo and the crunch at the bottom made her swear a blue streak and kick and scream like a two year old.

"How fucking appropriate." she muttered when the tantrum had run its course and the sun finally set to throw the landscape into darkness. With a final death groan, the car slowly rolled onto its roof and Mary hung from the seatbelt and laughed…belly up in the desert.

*****This poor woman cannot catch a break. I surprised she didn't shoot Raph! Let me know how I'm doing...thanks!! *****


	3. Chapter 3

***** Oh, what to do when stuck in a ditch with a bottle of whiskey...why, ruminate of course! *****

She extricated herself from her seatbelt, harder than it should've been, and rummaged around until she found the whiskey bottle. Luckily, it was intact because otherwise she may have slit her wrists in frustration with the broken pieces. She kept a couple of blankets and water bottles in the trunk, and went through the backseat to drag those out too. Everything she'd need for a camp out under the starry skies of New Mexico, all set up before she was too drunk to even care if she wet herself. She even had shelter, albeit upside down shelter, but it would suffice if it rained…so long as the arroyo didn't flood.

Mary toyed with the idea of calling someone to come and get her and decided it could very well wait until the morning as the whole plan was to hide from the world tonight. She wasn't injured, it wasn't going to get cold and the silence was already comforting. Anyway, she thought it would serve them right not to be able to track her down. If she was going to stew and twist herself into knots, then she saw no reason for the other guilty parties to not get a taste. Taking a blanket, some water and the whiskey, she walked along the arroyo for a while until she found a less steep area of embankment and scrambled up to the top. Laying the blanket down, she sprawled atop it and gazed at the heavens.

There weren't many things more impressive than the fields of stars viewed from the darkness of the desert. The blackness was velvety, and the Milky Way cut a swath of illumination from horizon to horizon. Mary used to think standing on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean made you feel small, but that was nothing compared to measuring your worth against the universe. She started counting the number of constellations she recognized from Marshall's many lectures and immediately felt pangs of guilt and sorrow. "_No time like right now to drown __**that**_." she saluted silently as the cap came off the bottle and she took a good sized swallow.

Thinking about her partner's ability to know a little bit about everything, she compared him to Raph and realized she didn't even know if her former fiancé knew any constellations. Hell, other than baseball, car sales and sex, she couldn't think of ever knowing if Raph had any other interests at all.

"Apparently he has a hankering for hot blondes." she cracked to the Big Dipper, taking another swig of the whiskey and enjoying the burn.

Remembering the first time she had seen Raph, Mary knew he was the next guy she was going to take home with her. He was beautiful, and that accent just about sent her over the edge right there in the bar. The man could kiss your panties off and the sex was some of the best she'd ever had; fast, hard, adventurous and he lasted all night.

"God, Raph, you were a hell of a fucking ride!" Mary raised the bottle to the sky with a saucy grin and a few tears.

The thing was, she never would've gone to see him twice if he hadn't found her again a few nights later…then again a week after that. He became reliable and it saved her the time and trouble of the hunt. And, she supposed after examining a few hidden reasons, she saw that return to her as giving her value. She was desired by someone…sought out and wanted. Her father had never returned, nor Mark or any of the few other ill fated attempts at a relationship once she sent them on their way. They had not pursued her…had not found her worthy or good enough…and this new experience of being wanted was a bit intoxicating. A bit addicting, actually, as she soon didn't want to give it up and began to equate the satisfaction of feeling needed to actual feelings of affection for Raph.

Mary tried to pinpoint when she started to blur the lines between wondering if she should feel something for Raph and forcing herself to feel something for him. The answer came to her: The night she said 'yes'. That was the night she looked around her and tried to put other people before herself. The night she hadn't wanted to be the selfish bitch they all had implied she was, their sad eyes and slumped shoulders piling on the guilt. Mary had told herself it was time to put on her big girl panties and decide to love someone. She thought that was how it worked, that you decided to love someone and grew the feelings somehow. How was she to know? She had never fallen in love before and didn't know how those feelings came about.

"Jesus, I'm depressing myself. I was supposed to come out here and forget this shit." She chastised her brain and took another drink in hopes of knocking it silly.

Mary again pondered why she had put the blinders on with Raph. All the accusations Marshall had thrown at her about her fiancé were true, and now she wondered what more she had missed. Had he been sleeping with other women this whole time, or was this a one time thing? She thought this may be due to those damn car commercials. All the stress from planning the wedding, and from living with her, and Raph was exposed to women ready and willing to soothe those wrinkles from his forehead and work those aches out of his body. It shouldn't matter, though, whether there was a quick fix for his frustration…unfaithful was never acceptable in her book. Emotional damage aside, there was the physical ramifications from those dalliances. Now she was going to need another blood test.

After a while, the stars were finally starting to shimmer and dance as the whiskey began to settle in her veins. "_That's more like it_" she nodded to the thought. A falling star caught her attention and she immediately closed her eyes to make a wish: _I wish Marshall were here_.

"What?! I'm supposed to be forgetting him too!" she shouted into the night. A coyote sang a mournful tune in seeming response and she replied, "I feel your pain, sister!"

Marshall Mann…fuckwit extraordinaire in her mind tonight. He didn't know when to leave her alone, when to stop pushing. The irritating man knew all her buttons and just when to trigger them for maximum effect. She knew he must predict her reaction, and yet he stood there and put himself right in the path of her destruction without flinching. Forced her to mow him down when common sense should've warned him to back off. Why did he do that to her? To himself? Was it some kind of test to see if she'd back down? He was the only person that didn't let her get away with sabotaging her own life, and fought tooth and nail to make her look at herself before she imploded. She remembered a line he had used to describe being her partner once… "_You're like a train wreck I can't stop watching, and I hope I don't end up being a part of the mangled mess when it's over._"

"Well, look at that asshole, you managed to get out of the way." she morosely called at him and drank in his honor.

And now he had a girlfriend. Mary honestly didn't know what to think about that. It's not like he hadn't dated periodically throughout the time they had known each other, so why did it throw her for such a loop when he offered that information tonight? She knew he loved her and supposed she thought he would always be there for her and this was an indication that he still had an option to turn away and leave. To give his care, concern and protection to another woman. It made sense, though, that he would be unsatisfied giving so much to her when she reserved her time and affection for another man. He was proud and independent too, not one to be caught looking the fool.

"_Wow,_" Mary appalled even herself, "_I really thought I could have my cake and eat it too._" The self loathing kicked in again and she reached for the bottle of whiskey.

Some time passed, and Mary got up to pee, giggling as she had to pick herself up off the ground once or twice before completing the suddenly complicated task. A small, still comprehensive part of her brain urged her to find her way back to the car before the snakes started to lie in the open areas to soak up the warmth of the sand at night. She drank one of the water bottles as her throat was raw from the whiskey and gathered up her blanket and belongings for the trek back to the pathetic Probe. The embankment gave her a lot of trouble and she basically fell down the last five feet in a jumbled heap. Laughing at the ridiculous of it, she brushed her sorry ass off and staggered towards her car glad that the numbing effects of the alcohol masked the stinging of the scrapes and cuts she just managed to gather. She grabbed a bleached stick and poked at the inside of the vehicle to chase out any unwanted visitors (Marshall told her to do this once), but no one was home so she crawled inside and curled up on the ceiling with the blanket wrapped around her, taking one last drink from the whiskey bottle before capping it.

Her eyelids were heavy and she sang a few off key songs with random memories of random people and events. Frowning, she thought that getting wasted wasn't nearly as much fun without Marshall and she missed him. Who was going to keep her from getting sick on herself later? Remembering his advice, she wiggled to lay on her side so she wouldn't "drown in a pool of her own vomit" as he so often liked to say. She shuddered in disgust at that possibility and resolved to leave the car if her stomach so much as hiccupped. As she drifted off to unconsciousness, she also remembered he said rattlesnakes liked to curl up with warm people at night... "_Son of a bitch!_" she thought before passing out.

***** She's not going to be happy in the morning! Please let me know what you think :) *****


	4. Chapter 4

***** Yesterday gave me the most hits on my stories in one day than I've ever had before! I'm so thrilled and honored that you are all enjoying these so much! Thank you for reading and reviewing and feeding my little weird writing habit :)*****

***** Now...let's see what Marshall is thinking about... *****

The third shot went down as smoothly as the first two, and Marshall knew it was only two or three more before his brain would forget for a time. He was appalled she had goaded him into a state of anger, and ashamed at his outburst. The damn woman excelled at finding every chink in his well placed armor and driving hot pokers through them to irritate the beast within. No one on this planet, his father included, could make him as seethingly angry as Mary could. She could not see the wrongness of this engagement and wedding, even though he pointed out the faults to her in pretty obvious detail this evening. No, scratch that, she could see them perfectly well, but was choosing to look past them in order to fulfill some sick and twisted self imposed obligation. He saw it in her eyes, she wanted so badly to agree with him and almost silently pleaded with him to save her, but the train wreck continued down the track, sparks flying, hurtling to its doom.

"I cannot step in front of that." He shook his head and poured another shot.

Marshall sat on his back porch and contemplated the stars while trying to drink himself senseless enough to dull the pain, but not so senseless he couldn't drag his sorry ass into work tomorrow. Cygnus and Sagittarius winked at him from the clear skies above, and he remembered laying next to Mary one night in the back of his pickup after they had helped move a witness to a new house and pointing out the constellations. She called him a 'celestial dork' and laughed at her own wittiness.

It was the moments like that that snared him helplessly in her trap. She would let him get so close, tantalizing him with glimpses of unguarded laughter and wistfulness, but never allow him to linger there. The shove would follow, and he would stumble back to his proper place, her 'no trespassing' signs glaringly obvious. If she felt especially vulnerable, she would then mount additional attacks and defenses in hopes of driving him off for a while. He just ignored them, and when she geared back down he'd pick up where they left off. It was their dance, and they were in the expert division.

Raph had cut in at some point, and Marshall wanted the man off the dance floor. He was smooth and polished with the rhythm, enticing Mary and showing her fancy steps and exciting whirls. Mary thought Raph was a better dancer because he knew the right steps and moved to the right music, but she didn't see that she would have to learn only his moves and use only his music. All of her spontaneity, quirks and willingness to suddenly shake her booty would be crushed and Marshall mourned the loss of his partner.

Marshall had long ago surrendered to the fact that he loved the woman, had admitted it to her when she announced her engagement. At least it was out there, the ball in her court. They had become closer after the shooting, sharing details of their lives no one else knew to help alleviate the long nights with too little pain medicine. He knew about her father's letters now, and she knew about his mother's struggle with addiction. It surprised him that she continued to cling to the ideal of marriage that Raph embodied, and he had asked her to look at the situation closely to make sure it was really what she wanted, but she chose to remain blind. Almost as though the near death experience hardened her resolve to live the way she thought she was supposed to in that arena.

Fourth shot down and fifth poured, Marshall remembered the day the invitation arrived. He would've rather of received a notarized letter from the Marshal's service announcing a death in his family. This signaled a death to more than just a person. It silenced all those words that kept him hoping: …maybe…if…someday... He couldn't open it and it sat forlornly on the corner of his kitchen counter.

The invitation had arrived one week after he went on two dates with Anne. She was funny and intelligent, a woman he met at the coffee shop one morning and lingered to talk to for a while. It surprised him, actually, that a woman other than Mary had captured his attention, and he thought it may be a sign. The subtle nudge of something greater. He saw her again the next day and asked for her number, then called for a date later that day and she accepted. They had attended a gallery opening, and he enjoyed her company enough to ask her for dinner three days later. They shared interests and a sense of humor and Marshall was attracted to her. He had lied to Mary about the length of time he'd been seeing Anne, but he was going for shock factor anyway so it didn't really matter. He had seen the look on his partner's face and grinned now with the memory. It wasn't easy to rattle Mary Shannon, but he had shook her up pretty well tonight.

He tossed back the fifth shot as he recalled the phone message when he got home. Anne was declining his offer to attend the symphony tomorrow night. She was sorry, but didn't feel like she could embark on any relationship right now. She didn't even call his cell.

"Women. They are why the first man distilled the first shot of whiskey." he mused.

Marshall's thoughts slid slightly darker as the whiskey flowed through his veins. He hated to think of Mary with Raph tonight and his face took on a harsh and angry expression without his knowing it. She gave herself to that man and he gave her nothing in return except an endorphin rush that could be achieved with a good vibrator. He wondered…if he gave Mary a Spanish speaking dildo for a bridal shower gift, would she call off the wedding? The crude thought made him laugh out loud. He could only imagine the look on her face…no…he probably couldn't. Anyway, he'd only get to enjoy the moment for as long as it took her to reach him and put his lights out.

"Be fuckin' worth it, though." Marshall's language soured with his mood.

He knew they'd spend the morning in chilly silence at work tomorrow, then by lunchtime one or the other would speak, bantering would begin again near quitting time and she would call him to chat later tomorrow night as if nothing had happened. Marshall was reminded of that Barenaked Ladies song about making up and hummed it in his head for a while as his limbs began to tingle from the alcohol. Their fights were like release valves on a steam engine. You didn't want to be near it when it opened, scaldingly hot and deadly in nature, but it did the job and the engine went back to operating smoothly and efficiently after it blew. He just wished it didn't always feel like being flayed alive and he had started to wonder if he'd soon run out of skin.

The tingling had reached his brain, and as he tossed back the last shot, he wondered if he'd be able to go through with it…remain at her side while she slowly sunk into the quicksand. She may actually drag him down with her and he wasn't sure he'd try very hard to escape…it might be more comfortable to smother.

Marshall staggered back inside and fell onto the couch, turning on the TV to randomly flip through channels as his eyelids grew heavy. He thought it was much more fun to get wasted with Mary and missed her…then found himself laughing hysterically only to sputter into tears as he watched Raph's car commercial.

***** I just want to hug the poor guy. She makes him crazy. Please with the reviews!!! *****


	5. Chapter 5

***** Waking up to reality is always a bitch! Some spoilers throughout, I'm sure. *****

Mary only thought she was in hell yesterday when she found Raph in her bed with another woman. Oh, no, that was just a mild level of purgatory compared to the state of being she found herself in this morning. Not caring if she was snuggled with a rattler, Mary threw the blanket aside and nearly gave herself a concussion as she struggled wildly out of the overturned car to fall to the sand a few feet away and heave. Kneeling limply in place a few minutes later with her head pounding and body aching, she wished she had thought to bring pain reliever. She was figuring on being able to drive her wrecked self back home this morning and hadn't planned too far ahead.

"Well, Mary, you never were the brains in the group." she muttered sarcastically.

Crawling back to her car, Mary gave the whiskey bottle the evil eye as she again poked the interior with the stick, then dug around in the blankets for the two remaining water bottles. Drinking from one slowly, she could at least rehydrate a bit to relieve her headache. Considering her bladder wasn't even grumbling, she figured she was a few pints low in the fluid department. She shivered in the early morning chill and wrapped one of the blankets around her shoulders as she fumbled with the lock on her gun box in order to get out her cell phone.

She sat and looked at the device before turning it on to decide who she was going to call. Not Marshall…no way. Mary could just imagine the smug, all knowing grin he'd be wearing when he pulled up in the clean, just so SUV with his clean, unwrinkled shirt and jeans. She wanted to slug him and he wasn't even here. She sneered and wiggled her head in peevishness as she banished him from her thoughts yet again. Brandi couldn't find her way out of a paper bag if the directions were written on her retinas, so trying to get her out here would be futile. Jinx?...just no. She resigned herself to calling Stan and threatening him with backing up the office paperwork for weeks if he tattled to her partner. Sighing, she powered up the cell, stared at the screen and barked, "Fuck!"

It wasn't the fifteen messages, it was the zero bars. "_Okay, you're in a ditch, get up the side where the waves or whatever can get to you._" She thought it was a reasonable expectation and shimmied back out of the car to find the easiest way up to the road. Climbing up a gully about a hundred yards away, she stood in the middle of the poor excuse for a road and pursed her lips while grunting, "Hmmm." Still no reception.

"Note to self: Check cell phone reception in middle of desert before wrecking car." Not one to panic, Mary nodded sagely and decided to walk a ways down the road in either direction to see if she could catch a signal.

From a distance, the high, New Mexico desert looked flat and boring. Up close, the terrain was rolling hills and dipping valleys and gulches dotted with piles of volcanic rock and tangled thatches of scrub brush and grasses. The faint tire tracks from her car were the only clue as to which direction she had come from, so she started trudging in that direction first. Knowing she had driven southwest out of the city, Mary calculated she was somewhere southwest of Petroglyph national park, north of I-40 and well past Paseo del Volcan, which was the last road to civilization. Basically, she was in the middle of nowhere…how fitting to match her life.

She walked for about twenty minutes with no hint of returning reception, then turned to go back to her original spot. Mary cursed Nancy Sinatra now.

"I can assure you, sweetie, these boots were **not** made for walking." She crossed off the option of retracing her route on foot to find civilization. Marshall was always touting the awesomeness of his custom made cowboy boots and she always called him a girl. Again, the damn man was right.

Once back to the location of the wreck, Mary decided height may be helpful in finding some reception for the phone. Sliding and climbing her way to the top of a hill not far from her, she could now see the faint smudge of the city valley well off to the northeast. "_Crap…further than I thought_" she groaned internally.

There was a nearby boulder to sit on, and the frustrated woman threw rocks off the top of the hill while soaking up the warm sun for a while. No bars on the phone and running out of options. She remembered Marshall once saying cell phone reception area increased at night for some reason…refraction or reflection or some other geek word for magic. If she was still stranded tonight, she'd climb back up here and try again. Until then, Mary turned her phone back off as it would run down its batteries trying to search for a signal. Anyway, all the Marshal's phones were equipped with GPS and somebody would come looking for her eventually…but when?

"Now, there's a thought that'll make me drink again." she mumbled.

How long would it be until anyone thought to come look for her? Sure, Marshall and Stan would miss her today at work, but since it was Friday and she and Marshall had fought so horribly yesterday, the men may just overlook her absence as her way of cooling down. They may call, but if her phone was off they'd leave her alone. Raphael certainly wasn't going to come looking for her or gather up a posse to help him. He was likely licking his own wounds…or someone was licking them for him. "_Son of a fucking bitch_." she thought as she threw more rocks. Then there were Brandi and Jinx. Neither especially known for their skills of noticing others in their lives, Mary's unpredictable schedule would lead them to believe she was gone again due to the job and they probably wouldn't miss a beat without her there. Mary randomly wondered if they even knew what had occurred with her and Raph, or if he had actually left. God knows, they all might be having a giant orgy on her favorite sheets.

She put her head in her hands and just groaned with pent up anger and angst. All she wanted was time to wallow in her own self pity, to sufficiently abuse her body so the physical pain would match the emotional. Now she realized she was in a more precarious predicament than she originally thought. They may not look for her until Monday, when she didn't show up at work, and that meant she had to survive for three days and nights out here with scant water and no food. Thank God it was summertime.

Mary stood and shook her fists at the sky and screamed, "For Chrissakes! What the fuck have I done to deserve this shit!?" She stomped her feet in frustration and yelled at no one in particular for a while just to release some steam. Trying to think clearly, she carefully scanned in all directions to see if she could spot a house, barn, camper…anything close as a target to walk to in hopes of a phone or help. She came up empty. Her partner once spouted a statistic she remembered: 65% of people who wander away from their shelters when lost perish. Even though she refused to say she was lost since she knew exactly where she was, Mary wisely decided to just stay with the car. Too bad it wasn't one of those cars that talked to you in a sexy, British accent when trouble was afoot. She had some water…probably enough to keep her alive, shelter and clothing… and whiskey if it looked like she was going to bite the big one. She certainly wasn't going into that great beyond sober.

Tired and hot now as it was nearing eleven in the morning, she hiked back down the hill and into the arroyo back to the car. It was shady on the other side of the gulch, and Mary settled down to lean back against that embankment and rest her pounding head. She drank a little more of her water, but denied herself more than that sip. One and a half bottles for three days was not a lot of water, and the whiskey would just dehydrate her. Closing her eyes, she drifted into a restless sleep.

* * *

"Should I be happy she's not here?" Stan asked Marshall from the doorway of his office at lunchtime.

"Probably," began Marshall as he turned away from his monitor, "we had a fairly heated discussion last night and she was definitely not happy when she left. Didn't she call in?"

Stan decided Marshall looked pretty rough himself. When his Inspectors fought, neither emerged unscathed.

"No, she didn't. Discussion about what?" Stan inquired, crossing his arms.

"The wedding." was all Marshall offered, and turned back to his work, signaling the end of the conversation.

Stan raised his eyebrows and sighed, heading back into his office. He didn't need Mary here today, so he decided to just write her down as a sick day. Her ass better be in that chair Monday morning though.

At four o'clock, Marshall sent her a text message, "_Okay?_" He wasn't going to call, but just had to reach out in some way to let her know he wasn't done. That he was still her partner…and her friend. He couldn't completely abandon her. A few minutes later the message was returned with the error: undeliverable. He looked at it quizzically, not knowing why that would be. Shrugging, he decided to just try again later.

* * *

Brandi still couldn't believe Raph was gone. She had come home last night to see the man packing up his belongings and cursing in Spanish. She tried to ask him what was going on, but he wouldn't talk to her and just kept saying he was a fool. Finally, she asked him if Mary knew he was leaving. Stopping what he was doing, Raph stared at her for a minute before replying,

"Yes. She has graciously allowed me to keep my stuff." He held the engagement ring up for her to see before throwing it into his bag.

Brandi was incredibly confused. Mary had obviously broken the engagement and kicked Chico out of the house, but why? Raph stormed out twenty minutes later and Brandi had sat in the quiet house wondering where Mary was. She decided her sister was probably bitching to Marshall about whatever problem she and Raph were having this time, and had turned on the TV to find a good show to watch.

Now, with Mary still gone the next morning, Brandi was sure she was at Marshall's or had to leave town for the job. Transporting prisoners or something equally as boring. She decided to have a few friends over for a pool party and jumped up off the couch to plan.

***** Well now...that just sucks. Wonder how long it's going to take until they start actually looking? So glad you are all enjoying...and I cannot thank you enough for the fun reviews and ideas!!! Please continue to let me know how I'm doing and what you like :) *****


	6. Chapter 6

***** Oh...things just keep sliding downhill. Poor Mary. *****

The sun was beating down on her head and she woke lying against a surprisingly comfortable clod of dirt. Having no idea how long she slept, Mary levered herself up, found a spot to use for a toilet, then moved to the car to check the time on her cell. It was four in the afternoon, and she was shocked she had slept that long. With all the stressors in her life unable to attach themselves to her, her brain and body were taking advantage of the break. At the same time, she became aware of how hungry she was and that she was now sunburned. Grimacing at the thought of potential pain, she climbed through to the back seat and pushed into the trunk to grab her overnight bag. Not as savvy a packer as her partner, her bag only contained the essentials for hygiene and decency. Mary tried to think if she had any other useful items in the car and only came up with a first aid kit and tire iron.

"Oh yippee…I can knock someone's brains out and stick a bandaid on it." She threw them back into the trunk.

Pulling a long sleeved shirt out of her bag, she swapped out her short sleeve t-shirt. It was too warm, but provided sun protection, and as a pale skinned blonde, she preferred to avoid the lobster look. Okay…the blonde was slightly artificial, but not too much and the skin tone was completely natural. No food in the bag, no matter how many times she dug around in there. Thinking about the plants in the desert, she knew Marshall would probably be able to prepare a gourmet meal from them, but she would likely pick something to eat that would turn her liver green and cause her to go blind.

"I could stand to shed a few pounds." she convinced herself. Better starving than puking.

It was hot down in the sunny arroyo, so Mary grabbed a water bottle, headed back to the exit gully and up onto the road to see if she could find a shadier spot nearby. Even though the temperatures hovered around eighty five, it was a clear and sunny day and the rocks and sand just baked. A large boulder at the foot of a hill offered a semi-comfortable and sheltered spot, and as she sat down she suddenly found herself in tears.

Other than the obvious personality issues, what glaring inadequacy of self had driven Raph to another woman's arms? Sure, he had porked his physical therapist when she refused to marry him the first time, but this was different. They were planning the wedding, talking about getting a new house and he had even brought up the subject of kids. She shuddered. Mary had decided some time ago that she was not fit to bring a child into this world. That was surely a disaster waiting to happen as her childrearing skills were non existent and her role models were drunks and absentee fathers. But still…

"Who the fuck cheats on the mother of their future, freakin' children." she said in disgust, "…in my bed!"

It was even worse that she found them there, surrounded by her personal things. Mary felt violated and wanted to throw every piece of linen from that bed into the trash. Burning them would actually be better, she decided. What really repelled her is the fact that she would've slept on those sheets later that night with that same man had she not caught them in the act. How long had this been going on? Did anyone else know about it? Mary plotted, and decided if her mother or sister knew anything about this they would find themselves on the street corner with their things strewn on top of them.

It wasn't fair that she was the one stuck and starving in the desert. Raphael should be out here sacrificing his body to the ghosts of Indian gods and the native flora, not her. She supposed she must love him somewhat as this wouldn't hurt so badly if she didn't. The rejection was brutal and she felt stripped bare and laughed at. All that time he said he was so lucky to be with her…that she was a difficult woman but worth so much to him. "_All utter bullshit_" she thought with a sneer, "_Lies_." He had made a fool of her and she wasn't quite sure how to restore her dignity. Maybe this was some divine retribution for all the men she had cast aside, but that didn't seem exactly right either as she had never led any of them to think they had any value to her. But then, she had let Raph think he had value to her far before she actually believed it herself.

Sighing, Mary had to move from her spot as the sun had found it and began to amble towards another favorable outcropping of boulders on the other side of the arroyo. At least the climbing up and down embankments and hills was less monotonous than walking in circles, but the exercise caused her to sweat and she didn't want to lose too much water. The super dry air of the high desert sucked up moisture as fast as you could offer it, thus another reason to stay out of the sun. As she went to sit in the patch of shade, she noticed an aloe plant tucked in the crack near her. Recalling a time when Marshall used the jelly of that plant on a sunburn, she felt rather proud of herself as she broke off a piece and rubbed the cool, sticky liquid onto her shoulders, neck and face. The breeze against the wetness was wonderfully refreshing and she just sat and relaxed in the soothing sensation for a while…dozing.

* * *

She awoke gasping and disoriented from the dream. The scene from her bedroom was taking place in the middle of the desert, and instead of the skinny blonde on top of Raph, Francesca rode him like a cowgirl. Mary yelled at her to stop, and Raph turned to her and said, "But Mary, you haven't tasted the cake yet", then pulled a gun and shot her. That's what woke her, she supposed, and she held her hands to the gnawing pain in her abdomen wondering why the wound was hurting her. It hadn't bothered her in months. She then realized it wasn't the wound, it was her stomach complaining about its very empty status. Regaining her senses, Mary checked the angle of the sun saw it was setting quickly. She had been here twenty four hours now, and had a new appreciation for the insanity produced by solitary confinement. Wanting to gather everything she'd need for another night of camping before it was fully dark, Mary headed back down into the arroyo wondering about the dream.

Waiting until ten p.m. to check the theory of increased cell phone reception after dark, Mary now trudged back out of the gulch with the goal of reaching the top of the hill she had climbed earlier. She brought the stick with her just in case she had to fend off some nocturnal critter, and it helped in the climb. The moon was half full, so some light was available, but she still stumbled and fell a few times on her way up the hillside and was cursing at an especially nasty scratch on her arm from a thorny plant as she achieved the boulder resting on top. Scanning her surroundings, Mary's fleeting hope of rescue was immediately dashed as there was not a single point of light to be seen other than the faint glow of Albuquerque in the distance, and smaller communities just as far in different directions.

"Doesn't anyone go for a drive in the desert anymore?" she muttered, then realized she had no way to attract anyone's attention anyway, so unless they stumbled across her, she was stuck.

Mary held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut as she turned on her cell. Not sure what kind of prayer to offer for this sort of thing, she just sent up a "_Please?_" and looked at the screen. No bars. She took a deep breath and whispered, "Jesus." Her mind was racing with indecision. She knew she should stay where she was and just wait for the cavalry, but survival instinct was strong and she wanted to try to make her way home now. Rubbing her face with her hands, she tried to channel her partner and think about what he would do. "_God, I miss him!_" she agonized, not even caring what that meant. After running countless scenarios through her mind, she decided that she was going to hike. The dirt road was established enough to follow in the moonlight, her feet may get sore but would survive, and the coolness of night was the time to go. Resolve set, Mary headed down the hill to grab the things she would need.

The rattle sounded off to the left of her and she skittered to the right in reflexive fear, losing her footing and tripping over the tangled roots of a plant. Her feet slid out from underneath her and she tumbled awkwardly ten feet down the slope only to be stopped by a pile of boulders. The rocks cut into her back and a wave of pain shot through her left knee. Cursing like a sailor, Mary's only immediate concern was the snake. She sat very still to listen for it and hoped to God it was as scared as she and had run off the other way. "Stupid idiot," she hissed to herself, "snakes don't run, they slither."

Not taking any chances, she felt around for some rocks and threw them in the direction she would have to travel to reach the base of the hill. No warning rattle sounded, and she was fairly sure that meant the coast was clear. There was no way she would survive this adventure if she got bitten by a rattlesnake and she definitely did not want Marshall to find her rotting and bloated corpse out here. Adrenaline pumping and hyperalert, she pushed up to standing with the goal of retreat to the car. Two steps convinced her she was spending the night in the arroyo.

"God damn, fucking, piece of shit knee!!" she was crying now in frustration and pain.

She must've caught it on the way down and it was unstable and extremely painful to walk on. Already throbbing by the time she slid and limped down the rest of the hill, she could feel the tightness of her jeans over the injured joint and knew she had wrenched it well. All her planning and conviction for hiking to safety went out the window and she wondered if there was a cosmic conspiracy to kill her this year. Between Spanky, the shooting and now this…Mary pondered the possibility that the writing was on the wall and she had finally run out of luck.

Struggling to the car with frequent breaks to rest and breathe through the pain, Mary finally gained the overturned vehicle and lowered herself into a sitting position leaning against it. She growled knowing she had lost the half full water bottle, and throwing caution and common sense to the wind, she grabbed the bottle of whiskey and took a long drink. She didn't want to die out here in the desert all alone and suddenly felt immensely sad. What if Marshall didn't come looking for her? She shouldn't have said what she did and should've listened to him. She had pushed at him for so long and maybe this time she succeeded in actually shoving him hard enough that he wouldn't come back.

"Why am I always so hurtful to him?" her voice shuddered with emotion as tears formed in her eyes, "All he ever does is try to keep me from hurling myself into disaster and I cut him down every chance I get. What is wrong with me?"

Mary tried to think of times when she was helpful and supportive to her partner and was coming up pathetically empty. Other than saving his life in that dusty restaurant last year, her role in their partnership seemed to consist of complaining, nagging and belittling. Oh sure, she would lend him her muscle and gun, but otherwise the only thing she seemed to offer was sarcasm and name calling. He was the only person who accepted her just as she was, and even told her that no man would ever be good enough for her. Marshall was the one who pointed out that Raph shouldn't say he loved her **despite** of who she was…he should say he loved her **because** of who she was. Mary moaned with the thought of losing the one, true friend she had because of her own stubborn need to remain the king of the emotional hill. She was really working on a good wallow now, and slumped down against the car to take another drink of the alcohol.

"Let them all leave…I didn't need them before and I don't need them now." Mary grumbled, having a self pity epiphany and vowing to simplify her life.

No one to care about her meant no one she had to care about and that suited her just fine at this point. If she hadn't been trying to please people, she wouldn't be in this predicament in the first place. Raph would be just a fond memory from a bar, and she'd be sitting and watching hockey with Marshall on his couch, feet up and a beer in her hand. She had more tears on her cheeks now as she thought about sitting on Marshall's couch. Closing her eyes, she willed him to look for her…willed it with all her soul. Taking one more drink of the liquor, Mary finally shook off the funk of depression enough to realize drinking was not going to increase her chances of survival here. Reluctantly uncapping the last bottle of water, she took a shallow drink and slowly and painfully cleared the inside of the car, then wiggled in to curl up with the blankets. Her ears and veins were buzzing with whiskey and she drifted into an uneasy slumber.

***** The 'what ifs' will do her in. She's starting to understand what she's missing...hope she lives long enough to appreciate it! Please keep reviewing!! I love it! *****


	7. Chapter 7

*****...and back home. Tendrils of doubt start to creep in...*****

Marshall spent another night funked up on whiskey and wondered if he should be a little more careful about falling into bad habits. The hockey game was on and he missed his rowdy partner. They would play the 'Nut Shot' drinking game, and it wasn't nearly as entertaining without her hilarious reenactments of the especially noxious shots.

He had sent another text and it was returned the same as the first. Calling her only revealed that her phone was off, and he resigned himself to the fact he would just have to wait until she deigned to call him to finally start on some sort of resolution.

"_She must really be angry,_" he decided morosely, "_I'm an idiot._" Her favorite moniker for him was irritatinglyfitting this evening. Of course, she also had the annoying habit of sulking like a six year old when she didn't get her way and could be trying to sucker him into making the first move. Marshall didn't like to play those games and it stuck in his craw when she pulled him into them. It was that damn push and pull they engaged in that tired him out, and Mary had been especially wishy-washy lately with the wedding approaching. The more she tried to show interest in the upcoming nuptuals, the more she messed with his head. Asking him if he liked her dress, what he thought of the reception ideas. Marshall tried to be noncommittal, but it was harder and harder to feign interest.

A new idea wiggled into his semi-addled brain, "_Maybe it's time to really move on?_" He gave it serious thought and other shot of whiskey. Marshall did not want to be the pathetic, mooning single man at her wedding. It was undignified, and he didn't want her to have that satisfaction.

He'd give her another month to change her mind and then he would close this chapter of his life. The whiskey went down way too easily and he was glad.

*********

By mid-afternoon Saturday, Marshall began to have a twinge of worry about Mary. It wasn't just that she hadn't called or texted him, it was now a nagging sense of unease. The gut feeling that had saved his ass more than once. That, and the fact her phone was still off and the text he had sent this morning was also undeliverable. Something was just odd. Mary wasn't one to ignore everyone for so long, especially when her witnesses had her cell number. He decided to go over to her house and put his mind at ease.

Pulling up, he noted no cars in the driveway and figured everyone must be out and about for the day. Taking the chance that Brandi or Jinx remained, he knocked on the door and was rewarded by a faint, "Hold on!"

Brandi opened the door and looked at him with a puzzled frown.

Marshall looked past her and his eyebrows raised nearly into his hairline. The house was trashed. Pizza boxes, beer cans and bottles everywhere and there were two people asleep on the couch. He looked back at the young woman in the doorway.

"I'd advise you to clean this up, and clean them out, before your sister sees it."

"She's not here. I thought she went with you."

"When did she leave?" Marshall asked. He didn't know why Brandi thought Mary was with him.

"She hasn't been home since Thursday evening. Didn't you know?" Brandi was worried now.

The hair on Marshall's neck stood up as unpleasant memories of Mary's kidnapping surfaced. He hated that ache in his gut. "Has she called? Have you called her?"

Brandi looked uncomfortable, "Uh, no. Like I said, I thought she was with you after what happened with Chico."

The Marshal's expression darkened and he leaned in, "What happened with Raph?"

"He said she dumped him and kicked him out. I don't know why." Brandi shrugged.

Marshall's mind was spinning. He wondered what could possibly have caused Mary to break her engagement, kick the man out and then disappear. Thinking quickly, he pushed past Brandi to head to Mary's room and she trotted after him. His jaw clenched when he checked her weapon drawer, and he immediately stalked back outside and into the garage. His hand came up empty from the rock salt box and now the tightness in his chest matched the tightness in his gut. She was not one to do herself in, but doing others in was well within the realm of possibility.

He walked back to the SUV and called over his shoulder to Brandi, "Call me immediately if you hear from her!" Destination in mind, Marshall quickly pulled into the street and was gone.

* * *

Mary's mouth was stuffed with cotton, her gut cramped and she ached like a truck had run over her.

"Waking up** is** hard to do." She groaned while rubbing the grit out of the corner of her eyes and stretching her neck. Stilling as she again remembered the rattlesnake story from Marshall, she raised her head to look around the inside of the car and let out a breath as she didn't see any company. She rolled over to grab her cell and it took her brain a moment to identify the creature she shared her makeshift pillow with.

Screaming like a girl, Mary flicked the offending critter across the ceiling and scrambled out of the car into the middle of the arroyo, falling over as her injured knee protested mightily.

"Jesus, fucking Christ!" she yelled while brushing at the rest of her clothing and shaking out her hair.

Mary was not afraid of spiders, but suddenly coming eyeball to eyeball with a hairy, fist sized tarantula would give just about anyone an enormous case of the heebie jeebies. Attempting to gather her wits, she tried to reassure herself with the Discovery Channel mantra that the spiders were mainly harmless, rarely bit, and would only cause a wound similar to a bee sting. It didn't work, and she shook her hair out again just to make sure the damn thing hadn't invited any friends.

She was out of breath with the morning aerobics and had to rest for a minute. That gave her pause because it signaled the beginning of her body's reaction to too little water and too little food. "_Shit._" She thought, not wanting to be reminded of the fact that it was only Saturday and she may have to make it at least two more days before they even **started** looking. Looking up, she was grateful to see a more overcast day as it meant cooler weather than the day before and maybe a chance for a shower. Mary started to develop a plan for the morning, deciding to push for the most physically challenging activities before she ran even lower on energy later today. She recalled losing a bet to Marshall and having to watch this movie about a guy stranded on a desert island for years. It was a sad movie and she thought about it for days afterwards. Shaking herself out of her reverie, she figured she had it a lot better than that guy, but wondered if she should decorate a rock and give it a name so she'd have someone to talk to. It made her chuckle and she reluctantly crawled back the car to have a showdown with a hairy beast and retrieve her cell phone.

Mary knew she'd have to climb that hill again, have to make sure she looked for any signs of human life near her. The thought of wasting away in that arroyo while an RV camped two miles away was unacceptable. First, she changed clothes. The night of drunkenness plus the fall yesterday had caked her clothing with dirt and sweat and she couldn't stand herself anymore. Pulling the clean items from the duffle bag, she tried to clean up as best she could without any water. Her knee was black and blue along the back of the joint and swollen. Mary had no idea what that meant except it hurt like a sumbitch. She was sure Marshall would be able to quote some injury to such and such ligament and so and so joint. Amused now, she even thought Raph might be able to shed some light on a knee injury.

"See? I knew they had something in common besides a penis." She announced triumphantly.

Unfortunately, Mary's nutrient deprived brain took the idea a little further and started wondering about the comparison between that part of their anatomy. Mentally slapping herself silly, Mary snorted in disgust and finished dressing, taking a moment to savor the feel of clean, non-gritty underwear.

One hour and fifteen minutes later, the underwear was gritty. She had taken a short swallow of the water before embarking on the journey to the top of the hill and it was amazingly refreshing, giving her a boost of encouragement. She had lost her stick from the day before, and had to just limp without support and it was a test of will. Concentrating on locking the injured knee joint to maintain stability for each step, Mary also had to steel herself against the pain each time she bent it again. She had to sit and rest for a while after getting up to the road as her vision swam and ears rang. "_This completely blows_." she deadpanned in her mind. Luckily, she had a lot of experience pushing her body to its physical limits, and before she could stiffen up, Mary lurched back to her feet with a colorful display of cursing and continued towards the hill. Gaining the bottom of the hill, it became a bit easier as she could now use the rocks and brush to pull herself up and support her weight slightly. She stumbled to her other knee once or twice with the uneven ground, and sat right on her butt once…thus the sand down her backside.

She lay on her back on the warmed boulder atop the hill, closing her eyes and blowing out slow breaths until the dizziness and nausea faded. Her cell showed no bars, and she opened her message folder to see who the fifteen messages were from. All Raph, not surprisingly. She couldn't listen to the voice mails, but the three texts were fair game.

"_Mary, please call me. I just need to explain_."

"Ha!" she barked into the silence. What could he possibly say that would explain what she saw. Maybe he was rehearsing a new scene for a car commercial? Doing his version of a casting call? Why would he even think she would accept any explanation for his actions? Mary knew she was nowhere near being a pushover, so she didn't understand why Raph offered this to her. Shaking her head at his delusions, she punched the next text.

"C_all me. We have to talk about this. I am so sorry. I love you._"

The apology was the only sentence in the message that didn't piss her off. First a command, then an imperative, then finishing with a hopelessly pathetic plea. There, in plain text, was a reason Mary didn't quite believe in love. How can you love someone and then hurt them in such a base and demeaning manner? How can you expect them to take you back after that? Maybe she was just naïve, but why would you subject yourself to this pain and heartache by loving someone? Mary thought love would be more of a desire to protect a person from any harm or hurt, to support them and keep them standing even when they get their legs kicked out from under them. She figured you'd rather gouge your eyes out with a stick before you'd deliberately hurt them, and you'd think about how your actions would affect them before you got yourself into any compromising situations. The speech Marshall gave Serge after busting his porno ring popped into her mind. Nodding, Mary realized Marshall would understand her ideas on love.

That peeled her off on a tangent. Marshall knew she didn't really love Raph because of the very ideas she just thought about. Mary felt none of those things for Raph and just hadn't realized Marshall would recognize it…she didn't recognize it. That's why he challenged her, why he said she was lying to herself and lying to everyone else. It's why he said Raph would never make her happy, because Raphael wasn't doing those things either. Cheating on her wasn't love, lying to her and manipulating her wasn't love, making her feel guilty for getting shot and pressuring her to quit her job wasn't love, and going against her wishes to override her authority wasn't love. Why did the man say he loved her? It was so obvious when she looked at it now. Snorting in derision, Mary looked at the last text.

"_Mary, I must ask to end our engagement. I do not think we can be married_."

"What?!" She was incredulous, and then just laughed out loud and the pure ridiculousness of the message. She never knew her ex-fiance had such a great sense of humor. "Gee, Raph…did you just figure that out?"

Lying on the boulder and studying the clouds high above, Mary soon drifted off to doze in the late morning air and slept for about two hours before the screech of a hawk roused her. She focused bleary and dry eyes on the bird circling the desert above her and wished she could hunt for food so easily. She really had never been this hungry before. One thing Jinx always made sure they had was food, even though there were times her daughter could not fathom how she had gotten it. Mary hadn't eaten since Thursday afternoon and her stomach was cramping up. It was time to check for human activity and then head back to the arroyo. She figured a drink of whiskey would at least put some sugar into her system for some energy reserve. Marshall had said the brain runs on sugar or something like that, and whiskey as brain food could be used as a powerful argument for drinking after doing something stupid. Mary smiled.

Sitting on the rock, Mary took a very comprehensive look at the desert surrounding her and extending into the distance. Again, other than the faint smudge of the city to the northeast and the subtle shadow of the highway well to the south, all was quiet. No dust trails to signal a car or truck, just contrails above attached to vehicles well out of reach. Sighing in defeat, Mary turned off her cell phone and began the painful journey back to the car.

Four hours later, she had explored along the arroyo about a half mile either way looking for any pockets of water or something possibly edible. Mary wasn't sure she knew what she was looking for, but thought some primal gathering instinct might kick in and help her out. She couldn't even dig water out of the ground, and since it hadn't rained in over two weeks, wasn't surprised. The whiskey did perk her up a bit, but the sugar high wore off fairly quickly, and she panted and shook by the time she settled herself down next to the car for a rest. Considering it was technically dinner time, Mary toasted the sky with her bottle of water and allowed for another swallow. Staring at the little plastic bottle, she had a sudden idea.

Marshall had shown her how to sweat leaves in a closed container to catch the water they would perspire when the partners were stranded in the middle of nowhere once. She had the empty water bottle from two nights before in the car and pulled it out now. Making another slow and painful journey down the gulch, Mary pulled some leaves off a low scrub brush and a few spines off an aloe plant. She pushed the greenery into the bottle, stuffed a sock in the opening, and set it out in the sand to see what would happen by morning. If it worked, she would declare herself a genius and only reference her partner if he paid her with BBQ ribs.

Exhausted now, Mary laid down on the blanket and let sleep take her for a while as the sun began to set yet again.

***** Another day gone and she's still alive. Marshall, of course, just knows... Please keep the reviews coming!!! I'm totally using them like catnip :D *****


	8. Chapter 8

*****When in doubt, go to the source of the info. And poor Mary is hanging in there! *****

Marshall pulled up to Raph's apartment shortly before dinner time, walked to the door and pounded hard. Mary had insisted he keep the place until the wedding. Maybe it was an omen. He waited five minutes and repeated the abuse on the wooden surface. The door jerked open, Raphael took one look at Mary's angry partner and tried to shut it again. An expert at keeping doors open, Marshall maneuvered himself just so and Raph was stuck.

"What do you want, Marshall? To rub it in my face?" He looked tired, pale and drawn and Marshall was glad. Of course, Marshall was also relieved his partner had left the man alive.

"Actually, I want the story, and then I want to know where she is."

"How the hell would I know where she is? She kicked me out on Thursday and I haven't been back since." Raph was not his usual cautious self around Marshall as he added, "You're the one she tells all her secrets to…you figure out where she went."

"Listen to me carefully, Raphael," no one would mistake the malice in Marshall's voice, "no one has seen her or heard from her since you told Brandi she kicked you out Thursday afternoon. I find that very odd and it gets my brain to wondering what kind of stories get concocted when people do very stupid things and try to hide them."

"What are you trying to say, Marshall? I don't know where she is." Raphael was confused.

Marshall stared hard at the man, "Did something happen to her? Did you hurt her?" He was trying to remain calm and controlled.

"What?...Dios mio, no! You can't possibly think I could hurt her, or do something to make her disappear! I may be a stupid fool, but I'm not an idiot."

"I'm really not in the mood to beat the information out of you, Ramirez. Tell me what happened." Marshall's tone was all business, the one he used officially. He could tell Mary's ex-fiance was uncomfortable and trying to hide something. Ultimately, he knew Raphael would never physically hurt Mary, but he just didn't know the man well enough to trust him.

Raphael ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, "She caught me in bed with another woman. Game over." It was painful to admit, especially to Mary's partner. Marshall had always intimidated him and it chapped his hide to hand proof to this man that he was broken and less of a man.

Marshall closed his eyes as his heart just broke for Mary. She had defended this man vehemently only an hour before going home and had to arrive just to have it all thrown back in her face. Her value as a fiancé and as a woman stomped into the floor, made to be a fool. He knew the feeling and he ached.

"In her house?" Marshall's question was soft with disbelief, "In her bed?"

"Yeah." Raph was defensive now, and angry that he was having to explain himself to the man who somehow held the secret to Mary. "Actually, I'm surprised she even noticed. She's been especially distracted lately"

"I suppose it's because she's been burning the candle at both ends to help plan your wedding. Guess you forgot to let her in on a few details." Marshall was fuming.

Marshall's tone of voice was a warning, and Raph backed down a notch, "All I know is she left before I did…almost pulled her gun on me when I tried to explain."

"It would be interesting to know just how you would explain something like that to a woman to whom you've professed your undying love. Somehow, you had actually earned her trust and I don't think you really know what you've done." The tall Marshal's words were very even and controlled, not quite hiding the utter contempt for the man standing before him.

Tired of the dressing down, Raph threw caution to the wind, "I wouldn't have had to explain anything if she'd come home an hour later like she was supposed to."

It was the knowledge that man had planned to intentionally deceive Mary that threw Marshall's switch. He punched Raphael in the face and closed the door behind him as he stalked back to the SUV.

He knew why she hadn't called him now. The damn, stubborn woman wasn't going to take yet another chunk out of her pride and come to him admitting the very problem she had just denied. Now he just needed to find out where she went. Chances were, she'd roll back into existence tomorrow afternoon having been off on her own for a few days to get drunk and regroup. It's just that her cell was still off. If either of them were planning on being out of contact for more than twelve hours, they informed the other and made sure their witnesses had their partner's cell number as backup. Mary hadn't called him to tell him she would be unavailable and that was not like her. You are always on call when you're a WITSEC inspector.

He spent the evening visiting her normal hangouts and coming up empty. Calling the highway patrol, he made sure no accidents had been reported involving her car or anyone of her description. He just couldn't imagine she had gone too far. If he didn't hear from her or wasn't able to reach her by tomorrow morning, he was going to get Stan involved and they would start to search with earnest. Marshall slept restlessly, waking often thinking he heard Mary's voice telling him to hurry.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Mary had woken late in the night shivering, and wriggled back into the car to wrap herself in the blankets and get out of the chill night. It didn't help much, but the ceiling of the car was more insulated than lying on the cold ground. Sleep caught her again easily.

It was light out the next time she awoke, and she had little energy to rise. Nearly three days without food, and only sixteen ounces of water was taking its toll. That thought caused her to stir, though, as she was curious as to whether her water trap had worked. She checked around her more carefully this morning, not wanting to have another critter scare like yesterday, then extricated herself from the inside of the Probe painfully and slowly. Her knee was stiffer today than yesterday, and throbbed mercilessly once she started moving around, causing her to groan.

"Jesus, I feel like shit." about summed it up.

Crawling over to her little bottle, Mary held it up triumphantly as there was about two centimeters of water pooled in the bottom. She whooped with pure delight in her accomplishment, even though her rational brain told her it was not that exciting. Deciding it would be her morning treat, Mary painstakingly removed the flora from the bottle with a small stick, and slowly let the water run down her throat. It tasted absolutely awful, but it was cold and wet and she had done it herself. This little water victory gave her a lot of hope for survival for some reason, and she was ready to face another day now.

"Take that, Marshall Mann. I'm not so helpless after all you nitwit."

She needed to refill the bottle for tomorrow, and grimaced at the thought of walking down the arroyo to get the plants again, but figured earlier was better than later as her energy would only get sapped as the day went on. Back to the car for a slug of liquid sugar, Mary suddenly thought about the GPS unit in her cell phone. In order for it to be tracked, the phone had to be on. Assuming someone may start looking for her today, she thought it was Sunday, she decided to leave it on for an hour this morning, this afternoon and later tonight. Once they started looking, they would keep the locators on and her blip would show up when the phone was active. If they couldn't trace it all the way to her the first time, they'd catch her again later. Looking at the whiskey bottle, Mary seriously considered labeling it brain food…she was downright clever this morning. The phone was turned on and she saw it was nine in the morning.

By noon, Mary had refitted the water bottle trap with vegetation and walked for a ways up the road the other way to check for phone reception. Sitting on a low rock to rest her knee, she adjusted the shirt on her head that was fastened into a crude sun visor. The sunburn was already established, but she wanted to minimize any further exposure. She wondered what she'd do when back home and having to face everyone with the situation. Imagining Brandi and Jinx would be upset, Mary dreaded the tears and drama that would be focused on Raph, not her. She remembered her sister telling her she wouldn't be able to do any better than a man like Raph and wondered if that was true.

Really, what did she have to offer a good man? She was impulsive, brash, outspoken, aggressive and self centered…and those were the nice words people used to describe her. Mary could hear the real meanings in her head: crude, bitchy, rude, nasty and mean. Those were the words the kids used in school when they provoked her to fight on the playground and then tattle to the teachers that she started it. Not that she cared if she got into trouble. They never stayed in one place long enough for her to make friends or get to know the teachers, so it was easy to play the bad girl and bully her way to what she wanted. It's pretty much what she still did now, and she was uncomfortable with the realization that she had used Raph…had decided it was time for her to settle down and get married and twisted up the first guy who offered that to her even though he wasn't the one she wanted, but was probably the only one she'd get.

Marshall had said Raph didn't care to take the time to get to know the real her. Well, she didn't care enough to take the time to get to know Raph either. Why would she have thought it was a good idea to marry a man whose family members' names you didn't even know? If fact, as she tilted her head to think, she couldn't remember if he had two sisters or three.

"Wow. I truly am a selfish bitch." Mary said wryly.

Had she really ever taken the time to get to know anyone in her life? Other than her partner, she couldn't think of anyone she paid that much attention to. She supposed she knew enough about her mother and sister, but it was still surface detail and only what she needed to meet their basic needs. She didn't know how her mother felt about being sober, just knew she was. Brandi's major in school was completely unknown to her, she just knew how much the classes cost from the tuition bill. In fact, Mary was sure, the whole family existed on that level of friendship instead of kinship. Brandi was probably the most likely to bond to anyone, and that's just because she didn't remember their father leaving. Once your heart gets ripped out of your body and disappears, you never quite desire to take the time to attach it to anyone else again.

"Thanks Dad." she mumbled.

Mary wondered why her father sent her the letters. Why did he string her along like that? Why not just make it a clean break and let those you leave behind heal? It was like dangling a carrot in front of a mule to keep it moving forward. Frustrating for the mule and ultimately the goal was only beneficial to the one providing the carrot. What did he want from her? Some future favor she'd feel obligated to fulfill because he had stayed in touch? Maybe, the day she finally found him, he just didn't want her to call him a son of a bitch. She was sure he was in witness protection, especially after the story his partner in crime told. She had to laugh when she thought of the rules he was breaking by writing her those letters. Mary hoped his Marshal found out and reamed him appropriately.

Maybe she **was** trying to somehow atone for his sins. The little girl who thought it was her fault her daddy left was still insisting on being punished for driving him away. Denying herself happiness or success was a way to remember that pain, because forgetting it meant forgetting him. He was never allowed to fade from her memory or her heart if she stirred up those burning embers now and then, so she let that fire continue to smolder when she really should smother it. Her father's letters only reminded her to stir the ashes, and it was possibly his way of making sure she did…making sure she would remember to need him and miss him. Suddenly, that seemed sneaky and manipulative to her, and she was certainly tired of sneaky and manipulative men. She had clipped that wire on that bug thinking it had severed her connection, but she now needed to throw a bucket of water on the ashes of her past to bury it for good.

"That's it," she croaked, "I'm going to find the bastard and throw those letters at his feet. I really need to move on."

She levered herself up and limped back towards the car. It was time to climb the hill, check for life and try to communicate with the mother ship. "_Jesus, now I sound like Marshall_." The thought amused her as she slogged towards the hill.

***** Come on, Marshall...get your rear in gear, boy! Mary is finally seeing some internal progress. Thank you SO MUCH for the reviews! *****


	9. Chapter 9

***** The clock is ticking and anxiety builds. Spoilers from season one and two. *****

The water was gone. It was five in the evening on Sunday, Mary was laying on the boulder on the top of the hill shaking from the efforts to climb it, and she had to drink the last of the liquid in the little plastic bottle. She knew a body could go for three or four days without water, but she had already gone two and a half days with very little and was relatively sure her kidneys were going to shut down if she had to last another day. She hadn't peed since the day before. Marshall once told her that when the kidneys fail, the mortality rate for any condition jumps to 85%.

Her mind jumped around jerkily and caught on an idea: she needed to apologize to Marshall. It was a shitty thing to imply he had no one to love him. Mary didn't know why she said that…of course, she usually didn't think before she spoke much anyway. He was the one constant in her life and she now understood she did love him in her way. She'd fight for him and stand up for him, and when he was in a funk she actually would try to cheer him up instead of seeing how much further she could shove him down into it. When he almost died, she realized her life would be bereft without him and was stunned by the conclusion that she actually needed him. He never seemed to expect much from her, and that worked out well as she didn't have much to give. But this wedding was eating him up, and the anxiety had manifested itself in that fight the other day. He was trying to save his best friend from a life of unhappiness…trying to save himself from the misery of having to watch. She knew he loved her, he had said it during that toast and now during the fight on Thursday. The subtle meaning of that sentence was now clear, "…force misery on a man who loves you…" and she was ashamed for rejecting him.

"I cannot treat him this way anymore. He deserves more from me." More resolve…if she survived.

Mary didn't want to die yet. Not out here in the desert, not anywhere. It wasn't that she was afraid of death…you couldn't be in this job if that was the case…she just felt as though there were things she needed to do, goals she wanted to accomplish. That sense of being incomplete. Sure, there were a few things on the tangible bucket list like visiting Hawaii and skiing in Tahoe, but the longing for something greater couldn't quite be defined. Maybe it was a need to make a difference? Maybe to feel like you lived to the fullest? Or it could be that she searched for someone to live life with…a soul mate of sorts. Kindred spirit and all that crap. A person you could just roll with without thinking about it…think like they do…know how they'll react and why they do what they do. Kick back on the couch, get drunk and make fun of hockey players together.

"What?" She startled herself with that train of thought all of a sudden. "Sure Mary, get a little dehydrated and your brain cells start to go cross eyed. Marshall is your partner, not your soul mate." Her brain cells laughed at her denial and she refused to think about it anymore.

Time was passing and she needed to get down the hill before it got dark and the rattlesnakes came out again. Shuddering at the thought, Mary slid and slipped back to the bottom as quick as she could without succumbing to pain. She shut the phone off and would turn it back on again after dark. Dragging herself into the arroyo, she made it back to the Probe for a sip of whiskey and the chore of making sure she had everything she needed for what was going to be another chilly night.

All that thinking about death made her want to do one more thing. She pulled her pad of paper off the dashboard and rummaged around the car until she found the pen and began to write. It took about an hour, and then the light started to fade anyway, so she finished a few thoughts and placed the pad back in the clip for safekeeping. She saw that her little plant bottle already had moisture on the inside and she laughed as it gave her encouragement. If she was lucky…very lucky…she would be in a soft bed with a hot toddy by this time tomorrow night. Curling up, Mary drifted into a restless sleep, her brain sending her unsettling dreams.

* * *

Marshall woke with a start and a muffled shout. The dream left him disturbed and puzzled. In slow motion, he threw the punch at Raphael and as it connected, his target became Mary and he yelled as she fell from the blow. Having no earthly clue as to what that meant, his mind ran around in little circles for a while in order to clear the cobwebs. He rolled over to check his cell and found no messages.

"Damn it!" he hissed.

He had left a message before going to bed in hopes she was randomly checking her messages. Marshall kept going back to the reassuring thought that Mary would not hurt herself, at least not in that manner. She'd punch people and walls, drink her self into a vomiting mess and even start a fight in order to take a beating, but he never got the sense she would even consider suicide. Somehow, that would not suit her sense of justice. If she was going to go down, by God, the people involved were going to go down with her. The thought caused him to smile slightly, then was replaced by a frown as the more reasonable explanation popped into his head. Something unexpected had happened and she was out of action. A car accident was the most likely culprit, but he thought someone would have notified them of that by now since she had her license and badge on her. Maybe she was dead and lying in a ditch somewhere…or not quite dead.

That thought caused him physical pain and he rested his head in his hands. If the woman had nine lives, she was running through them a little too quickly for his liking. How could one person attract so many brushes with disaster in one year? Probably because she never looked before she leapt and didn't seem to remember the consequences of each previous dive as she geared up for the next one. Good thing she had the constitution of a warrior, able to continue to take the hits and wounds and keep fighting with a war whoop of victory on her lips the whole time. One of these times, though, it was going to kill her…and kill him in the process.

Remembering the phone call from Stan after Mary got shot, Marshall shuddered. He had dropped the phone in shock and was rooted to the spot as Stan yelled into the receiver on the other end. Not able to actually recall the whole conversation, Marshall could still hear the words that injected ice into his veins: gunshot, blood loss, critical, get there quick… The ride to the hospital was a blur, and when he saw her soaked in blood and motionless on that gurney he almost passed out with grief. She had looked dead, and actually was for a brief time before they shocked her heart back into life, and Marshall's world had just ground to a halt. It took a while to restart, and his recovery time was fairly similar to hers.

"C'mon, Mary," he whispered at his phone, "throw me a crumb here. Something to tell me you're just being pissy." The device was irritatingly silent.

It took some time, but the man finally fell back into a restless sleep and dreamt of empty gurneys being pushed down a long hallway.

* * *

Marshall waited until noon to call her. If she was just hunkered down somewhere, he could at least let her sleep in on her last morning off. The call went directly to her voice mail, as he somehow knew it would. Pacing his living room, he tried to decide what to do and settled on calling Stan just to get another person's opinion. After explaining the situation and trying to validate his concerns, Marshall was relieved that Stan also thought it was a bit suspicious and the men decided to meet at the office.

One hour and a stop at Mary's house later, Marshall and Stan tossed ideas around with anxiety beginning to tingle in their guts.

"She didn't take anything with her except her gun and a bottle of whiskey." Marshall informed Stan. He had checked her bedroom for toiletries and the usual travel items and they were all still there.

"If it were anyone but Mary, I'd say they were taking the quick route to Jesus." Stan replied.

Marshall agreed, again thinking Mary would never give the universe that satisfaction.

"Maybe she just decided to go camping or something and had enough equipment in the car?" Stan was grasping at straws.

"Have you met Mary?" asked Marshall with a look of disbelief, "She'd rather doll up and go on a date with O'Connell than go camping. And anyway, she's got a bag of clothes and about three water bottles in that trunk if I remember correctly. Not exactly enough to sustain her for a prolonged camping trip."

"Okay, so whether she stayed in town or left town, she'd have to buy gas or food or both. Does she pay for things with cash or credit?" Stan asked.

"Always credit." Marshall's reply was immediate, "She hates to carry cash and rarely has more than a buck or two on her."

Stan shrugged with a grin, "Well, let's check her credit card and see if she bought anything to clue us in."

Marshall could do that. He rummaged in Mary's desk for her list of credit card numbers that she kept in there and logged into her account online. She used the same password for everything, and he was finally appreciative of that.

Two cards with absolutely no activity since Thursday morning when she bought coffee. Thinking quickly, he pulled her checkbook out of the drawer too and checked activity online there. Nothing. No checks cleared or cash withdrawls from an ATM.

"So, she hasn't gotten any gas or food for nearly three days unless she's spending cash money, which is extremely unlikely." Marshall was really worried now because she had completely dropped off the grid. The last time this happened, they found a traumatized woman who shook so badly he thought she would shatter while he held her.

"Is there somewhere she usually goes when the shit hits the fan like this? Somewhere to blow off steam?" Stan asked.

Marshall sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, "Yeah, my house."

"But you two had a fight."

"Yeah." Marshall just rested his forehead on the heels of his palms and slowly rubbed his temples. He didn't want Stan to see the moisture in his eyes.

The two men were lost in their own thoughts for a while, then Stan snapped his fingers.

"Her phone has a GPS in it. I'll make some calls to get it activated and we can locate her."

Marshall's head came up and he said, "Why didn't I think of that? Let's do it."

"You do know, that if she is trying to hide and we come find her she's going to have us both castrated, right?" Stan warned the younger Marshal.

Marshall was dead serious as he retorted, "I don't think she's hiding, Stan, I think she needs to be found."

It took four hours for Stan to convince the powers that be that it was an emergency and their Inspector's cell phone GPS needed to be tracked. He and Marshall were given the access code at six fifteen in the evening and they held their breath as they plugged it into the tracking system. No match…Mary's phone was off.

"Turn your phone on, baby." Marshall muttered under his breath as he willed Mary to hear him. They would just have to hope and wait.

***** They just missed her! Oh, the frustration. I hope she even wakes up again to turn the phone on. Please let me know what you think!! *****


	10. Chapter 10

***** Down to the wire. Another ulcer for Marshall *****

She shivered awake in the darkness and was scared for a few moments. She had been standing on a cliff with her box of letters and a gust of wind blew them out and they swirled around her. Trying to catch them, she saw a few fly out beyond the cliff. Her father's voice whispered, "Go get them, Princess!" and she had jumped. The subconscious fall had hurtled her into wakefulness. Slowly coming to awareness, Mary noticed the wind had picked up some and she saw lightning far in the distance. A little concerned the storm would impact her, she decided to get up and have a look at the weather. Sleeping in an overturned car in the bottom of an arroyo is a bad choice of activity if flash flooding is on the menu.

Her legs were very wobbly and her ears kept ringing slightly and it was annoying. Her whole body felt kind of hollow and echo-y…it was hard to describe. Mouth rivaling eyeballs for dryness, Mary gave herself a shake to try to provoke a little more life into her limbs. She remembered to turn on her cell and saw it was half past two in the morning.

"Shit. I wanted to get that turned on earlier." A whisper was all she produced as her throat was so dry.

Eyeing the moist water bottle, Mary forced herself to ignore it until morning and stumbled to the ramp out of the arroyo to go look at the sky. There were clouds well off to the southwest with lighting shooting through their tops. Given that it was August, they were surely products of the monsoon. They wouldn't move this far north, Mary knew, as the usual path was northwest for this time of year. Her legs gave out as she turned to go back down into the gulch, so Mary decided to just sit there and watch the storms for a while. "_Marshall would like this_." the thought danced around in her head as she gazed at the spectacular show and zoned out for a while.

It got too chilly to sit in the open after a time, and she forced herself to get to her feet and stagger back to the car. An hour had passed since she had woken and she decided she was going to drink the water. It may be the little bit that kept her going until morning, and she could make a new plan then if she needed to. The nearly quarter cup of liquid was golden and she sighed in delight. Her stomach cramped a little bit with the intrusion, but the sensation vanished fairly quickly and Mary relaxed. The combination of stars and lightning continued to intrigue and fascinate her, and she pulled the blankets out of the car to wrap around her shoulders while she leaned against the door to ponder the sky.

She didn't really think of much while she sat there, it was hard to keep thoughts in her head for very long and she may have dozed off once or twice. Staring at her hands in the moonlight, she was a little dismayed by how dirty they were and all the scratches and cuts from crawling around in the brush and rocks for three days. She hoped they didn't get infected or anything.

"Ha!" she whispered, "I managed to keep my ass alive for three days in the wilderness. Take that Mr. Mann." smiling in triumph while nodding her head. She was so going to remind him of this the next time he called her pathetic. She missed him.

Jerking awake as she slid sideways, Mary noticed the sky starting to lighten in the east and fumbled for her cell phone to check the time. Almost five thirty. She didn't really know if that was meaningful in any way, but the fact that the sun was coming up meant she had lived to see another day.

"Rock on." Her fist weakly pumped the air as she gave in to gravity and lay on the ground in front of the car. Comfortable, Mary went back to sleep.

* * *

The men took turns monitoring the GPS tracker, and by midnight Marshall was sure something was so very wrong. Stan tried to keep him occupied, but was antsy himself as he wanted to take some action but there was nothing they could do. If she didn't show by eight the next morning, they were going to officially report her missing. He certainly hoped they'd find her by then.

At two thirty, the machine blipped and Marshall nearly fell out of his chair.

"Stan!!" he yelled, and the older man charged out of his office to see the screen.

"Her phone is on. Call her." Stan instructed.

Marshall dialed immediately and it went right to voicemail and he realized the problem. "She's out of range, Stan. She's been out of range for the last three days."

They looked at the screen as the coordinates came up and her dot appeared on their map.

"Jesus, the signal's from the middle of nowhere." Stan mused, "What the hell is she doing way out there?"

Marshall had written down the coordinates and was grabbing his coat and said, "Well, let's go get her and find out."

The men fueled up and plugged the coordinates into the SUVs guidance system and were on their way into the desert by three a.m. Marshall drove with his hands gripping the wheel, and Stan asked him to slow down a time or two, especially after they reached the less well maintained roads southwest of the city limits.

"She must have headed out here for solitude Thursday night." Marshall was just talking to relieve nerves.

"She may have had her phone off on purpose, Marshall. You have to consider that this was a deliberate absence. Christ, she had good enough reason to want to hide from the world for a while." Stan blew out a breath, "If that's so, she is going to be royally pissed at you for coming out here."

"That's fine. I'll handle it. But I can't take the chance that she needs me out there and not go."

"Yeah. I hear you."

The road became a dirt trail and they had to pay careful attention to the twists and turns as they ventured further and further into the high desert. Marshall didn't even notice the storms to the southwest as he was utterly focused on watching the screen of the guidance system get them closer and closer to Mary.

Finally, after two hours, the system told them they had arrived and he braked, idling the SUV and looking around as the sky slowly lightened in the east. There was nothing here. No car…no Mary, and his breathing increased with stress.

"Where the hell is she?" he turned to Stan to demand an answer.

"Calm down, Marshall. The signal is still strong, so she has to be around here somewhere. Let's go look."

They got out of the car and began to walk along the road, calling her name.

* * *

She was dodging cars in her dream this time and woke groggily thinking she had heard an engine nearby. Rubbing her face, she listened and tried to make out any sound over the tinnitus, and levered herself up on one elbow when she thought she caught the sound of a voice. She looked around and considered getting up to investigate, but couldn't get her legs under her. Laying back, she quietly waited.

"Mary!!"

"Marshall!" she croaked, not able to make more sound than a whisper. Frustration flared through her as she tried to call again, but her throat was too dry. She could hear her partner and boss calling her, and even if it was a hallucination, she was going to try to call back to them. Even her usual ability to emit a piercing whistle failed her and she would've cried if she had any tears left. "_I'm down here!_" She desperately sent the thought out to them.

Marshall and Stan were calling and looking and Marshall worked his way to the edge of the arroyo and looked down.

"Oh my God…Stan!" shouting as he saw the overturned car and the prone figure of his partner next to it. The steep embankment the car rested against hid it from view unless you stood right on the edge to look down into the gulch. Stan rushed over as Marshall quickly found a way down into the dry wash.

Marshall's mind was trying to process and erase as he stumbled and slid down the dusty slope to get to Mary. He didn't know what he would do if she were dead…just want to die right there with her, he supposed. Even if alive, if she had laid there for three days her injuries from the immobility would be life threatening in themselves. She wasn't responding to their calls, and he cursed himself for not looking for her sooner.

He slid down beside her and she looked at him.

"Hey" she rasped. It was the first time she had been happy to see his goofy face before six in the morning.

"Hey," Marshall replied, looking her over as waves of relief almost knocked him down, "are you hurt?" He was very worried about a neck or back injury and didn't want to move her yet.

"Just my knee. Thirsty."

Marshall saw the dry, sunken eyes, parched lips and sunburned face, and as he peeled back the blankets, she shivered when he took her wrist to get her pulse. Her skin was paper dry and had lost most of its turgor and her breathing was fast with a rapid heart rate. She was decidedly dehydrated and he was immediately more concerned.

"How is she?" Stan called down from above.

"Bad. She's really dehydrated and we need to get her to a hospital. Toss me down a water bottle."

"Sorry…I'm probably pretty ripe." Mary whispered with a grin, "Couldn't get a decent shower."

Marshall shook his head at her and then scooted backwards quickly to catch the water bottle tossed by Stan. He sat Mary up and supported her against his chest as he uncapped the water bottle and poured some liquid into the cap. She watched his actions as if mesmerized, and when he brought the cap to her lips she allowed the water to flow over her tongue and groaned in delight. Mary reached for the bottle and Marshall pulled it back.

"No…you have to go really slow or you'll puke. Just a couple of sips and we're going to get you up to the truck. Did you drink all that whiskey?"

"No. Just some the first night, before I knew I was stuck. A few sips after that for the sugar."

"Smart girl. How did you hurt your knee?" Marshall gave Mary another capful of water before she answered.

"I was climbing down the hill in the dark dodging rattlesnakes. It's been a blast, you should've been here."

"_I wish I could've been._" Marshall thought with a grimace.

Mary rallied enough strength to sit by herself and Marshall gathered her things out of the defunct car, grabbing the gun, badge, cell and ready to back out when he saw the writing on the pad of paper. Thinking she may want it, he snagged that too. Tucking all items into his pockets, he moved back to the dirty and disheveled woman on the ground.

"I can walk if you prop me up." she offered, not one to accept help even in this dire of shape.

"Mare…you're shaking like a leaf. You don't have to prove anything to me."

"I've made it almost four days, Marshall…I'm going to walk to that car." She stared at him with determination and pride and he nodded in understanding.

Marshall would rather have carried her, but knew better than to overextend his assistance and obeyed her wishes. She managed a decent stagger to the less steep area of the arroyo bank, leaning on him heavily, and while he pushed, Stan pulled and they got her up to the SUV.

"I'm gonna have to take a sick day, Stan." Mary mumbled as a greeting, then keeled over as her energy was sapped.

The men loaded her into the truck and climbed in as they turned towards home, Marshall in back with her head in his lap. She was filthy and covered with cuts and scrapes. He laced his fingers through her scratched and dirty ones and wished he could slow her breathing, it was too fast and he knew her body was desperately trying to counteract the effects of dehydration and exposure. Looking around the campsite as he had gathered her things, he noted the little bottle full of plants and knew she had used his trick taught to her a few years ago. It pleased him to know he had somehow helped her survive even though he hadn't been there and he stroked her forehead with affection.

Mary hummed and stirred back to awareness with the sensation. "I called off the engagement." The words were soft and he bent to hear them.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"No you're not." She was watching his eyes and saw the lie.

Marshall considered debating her, but she was right except for one thing, "I'm not sorry the wedding's off, but I am sorry he hurt you."

She looked at him for a few more minutes and narrowed her eyes with a grin. "You punched him, didn't you?"

He looked slightly embarrassed and shrugged, "He didn't know when to shut up."

Mary closed her eyes for a few minutes, then quietly spoke again without looking at him, "You were right, you know, and I'm sorry." her resolution to apologize fulfilled.

"Okay, but we can save this discussion until later, Mare. Just rest."

"I've been resting all night. I want to know if you're still mad." She gazed at him again and made an attempt to sit up that he foiled too easily.

"No. I'm not, but I can get there if you don't settle. We need time to talk about it, but this isn't it."

He determined that she needed an 'off' switch. Stan chuckled in the front seat, coming to the same conclusion and meeting Marshall's eyes in the mirror to share their amusement.

"Five." She said sleepily as her eyes drifted shut again.

"Five what?"

"I remembered five constellations you told me about."

Marshall smiled and prompted, "Which ones?" But she was back in a dream world and didn't answer.

***** Whew!! They made it. Now we'll have to see if they can resolve that last argument. Stay tuned and keep reviewing!! *****


	11. Chapter 11

***** Thanks to all who have written stories that swirl ideas into my head! Let's see what Mary wrote...and if they make up.*****

The SUV pulled into the ER forty five minutes later and they couldn't wake Mary. She was rushed in and hooked up to the monitors while the ER staff began to give her the fluids and meds she needed to rehydrate. The doc said she was lucky and probably wouldn't have survived another day. They'd keep her for twenty four hours, but she'd be okay to go home after that if her kidney function was normal and she was able to tolerate a diet.

Marshall and Stan sat in the waiting area up on the telemetry floor after Mary was transferred to a room a few hours later, assured by the nurses that Mary would be okay in time, but her team wanted to get her cleaned up a bit before letting her have visitors. Stan finally went to get them both some food, and Marshall pulled the pad of paper he took from Mary's car out of his pocket.

Taking an unsteady breath as he realized what he was holding, Marshall carefully turned the pages until he found the letter addressed to him.

_Marshall,_

_Well, I've finally done it. Went and got myself into a situation I couldn't get out of. You told me it was only a matter of time and you were right. There, I said it! I want you to know I thought of you a lot over these last days, and there are some things I need to tell you._

_One: I'm sorry. Just take that and spread it over everything. I'm a bitch and a pain in the ass and I don't know why you haven't just murdered me in my sleep yet. You don't deserve the grief I heap upon you day after day. I wish I knew why I did it, but I don't, so I can only apologize._

_Two: You're my best friend. I know you know that, but it makes me feel better to write it down. I never really had a friend before you, so I know it's been rough going at times. Thank you for hanging in there with me…you're either a glutton for punishment or a saint. And I know for sure you are not a saint!_

_Three: I love you. Not in a sappy, hearts and flowers way…but more of a 'my soul is attached to your soul' kind of way. I don't know if that makes any sense. I honestly don't think I would go through life without you and be anything more than an empty shell, so it breaks my heart to know you might be reading this and getting ready to do exactly that (refer to number one if this is the case). I wish I got to spend many more nights sitting on your couch and watching hockey with you, because that's what it's really all about._

_Four: For God's sake, Mann…get a new belt buckle! That thing looks like a dinner plate._

_All my love, Mary_

_p.s. If I'm alive, you better not let me know you read this!_

He had tears running down his face and hung his head to discreetly wipe them away. For someone who always said she didn't have a way with words, the words on that piece of paper were more powerful than any he had ever read. Mary laid bare and unapologetic. There was no shove backwards and he reread the paragraphs to commit them to memory as he was allowed to just soak up what she offered. He was never letting this woman go, he decided, no matter what abuse she heaped on him. He couldn't imagine anyone more right.

As he pulled the paper off the pad to keep, there was one more underneath it. He kept that one too, knowing she'd want him to have it just in case.

_I, Mary Elizabeth Shannon, will all my worldly possessions to Marshall Wyatt Mann. This includes the shoebox under my bed. Marshall, make sure the letters are in there. You may read them if you'd like._

She signed and dated it, and he knew it might actually stand up in court. Marshall folded the papers and placed them carefully into his wallet. They stayed there until Mary emptied it many years and two grown children later, finding yet more tears to shed as she held the faded sheets.

Stan and Marshall were finally allowed to visit with Mary, and the fluids she had received, along with the bath, had done wonders. They had carried in a limp and bedraggled woman, but she now sat up in the bed fussing with the bed controls and call light while cursing her knee. She had devoured a lunch consisting of bland fluids, but saved the jello for Marshall.

"God damn it, I am not staying here for a minute more than I have to." Mary directed that comment at Marshall as he walked in the door. She had pushed the call light, and the tinny voice from the wall asked her if she needed help.

"Somebody's going to need help if I don't get some pants. I asked for them over a half hour ago and I'm still butt naked from the waist down."

Stan put his hands over his ears, turned red and walked back out the door calling that he'd be back later, while Marshall just shook his head and chuckled. Of course, Mary had the blankets on and her gown in place, so she looked perfectly decent to him…looked downright wonderful in his opinion. Alive was always a good look.

"I think you just shot Stan's blood pressure through the roof." Marshall drawled while sprawling into the chair near her bed. He watched Mary scratch at the dressing covering the central line on her neck and reached over to snag her wrist.

"Don't pick at that. You don't want an infection and you don't want to pull it out. You'll bleed like a stuck pig."

She almost argued with him and he saw her visibly tense, then relax with a sigh as she let her hand fall back to her side. Mary knew he was right, and reminded herself of all the advice he had given her over the years that came back to save her life over the last three and half days. She decided to follow that damn advice this time and leave the dressing alone.

She picked at invisible lint on her blankets instead, suddenly uncomfortable as she didn't know what he knew about her and Raph, or what he had been thinking about their fight. She could feel him looking at her and decided to break the ice.

"I was a bitch."

"And I was an ass…guess it works out even."

Mary gave him a sidelong glance, "You knew from the minute I told you, didn't you?"

Marshall could see the tension in her body and didn't want to fight with her again, but after reading her letter he knew he had to be honest. He owed her that much.

"I know you. You'd like to think that I don't, sometimes, but it doesn't change the fact that you've let me in over these years and I've learned a lot about a woman named Mary Shannon. His ring didn't fit you." pausing as she tilted her head to look at him with narrowed eyes, Marshall continued once she just sat and waited, "As your partner, I watch your back and would protect your life with my own, and as your friend I would do the same. The problem was, bullets would've been less painful to take than watching you fade away."

Mary dropped her eyes back to the covers as she saw the pain in Marshall's eyes. Honesty seemed to be the play of the evening and she kept to the script.

"I went into the house to break up with him…I couldn't cause you that much pain anymore and I knew I was only lying to myself. I didn't want to drag Raph down either." She snorted a laugh and shook her head, "Irony should be my middle name."

Marshall chuckled and drawled, "According to Raph, 'bad timing' should be your middle name."

Mary looked at him with open mouthed disbelief. "Oh…he did **not**?"

Nodding, Marshall answered, "Yes…much to his misfortune…he did."

Mary laughed for a bit and Marshall joined her, the tension lessened and the pair gradually shuffling back into their desired roles.

"Dammit, Marshall…those were my favorite sheets." she huffed.

He grimaced, "Really, Mare, all I can say to that is…ew."

Snickering, Mary pushed herself up in the bed and winced as her knee complained. It reminded Marshall that she was still going to need some physical recovery time as well as emotional. The desert had provided some solace, but she would require more.

"Why don't you camp out at my place for a few days? Let the drama queens work some things out on their own before they start to chew on you?" Offering her a refuge with an ulterior motive of keeping an eye on her.

She stared at him for a minute before nodding in agreement, then laid back on the pillows to close her eyes as tiredness again enveloped her. The dressing itched, and she unconsciously reached up to scratch at it again. Marshall took the offending hand and tangled her fingers with his own. He had just started to doze when she spoke.

"I'm ready to find my father." her voice was sleepy.

"Just let me know what you need."

She fell asleep as his thumb slowly traced circles on her wrist.

* * *

She was back at work a week later and feeling better than she had in a long time. There were still things to be done to cancel all the wedding plans, but she had sent out letters to all the invitees and bitched about all the deposits lost to caterers and rental shops. Why she let herself get talked into a wedding that complicated, she didn't know. Sitting at her desk, she was trying to find a loophole in the reception hall contract and blew her hair away from her face in frustration.

"Marshall, if I ever plan to get married again, make sure I elope to Vegas."

"That's so trite and overdone. You have to elope somewhere exotic and exciting…like Fiji." Marshall was teasing her.

"Good point. Sand, sun and sex without the neon. Great idea." Mary was half listening as she read a confusing paragraph.

"You could take a few friends," he hinted, "some people might enjoy a tropical vacation."

Mary's mind had divided its attention too many ways and she was unaware of what she said next, just unconsciously replying to her partner's voice.

"Well, you invite three and I'll invite three. And we could charter one of those cool sailboats. How's that sound?" The question was rhetorical as she found what she was looking for and raised her hands in victory, turning to him to declare, "Aha!"

He was looking at her with the oddest expression on his face…almost stunned…and she was lost.

"What's wrong with you, idiot? Did you see a ghost or something?"

"Or something." was all he could manage to reply. Shaking his head, he got up to get another cup of coffee to cover his glee.

Mary was watching him as he was acting a bit oddly, and she noticed something that brought a smile to her face.

"You got a new belt buckle!"

"Yep." Marshall put his hands on his hips to show it off, "Saw it at the mall the other day and took a fancy to it. I got tired of the other one."

Suddenly, he saw Mary's face grow suspicious and he knew he better head her off at the track.

"What? A guy can't buy something he likes at the mall?" He made sure to sound appropriately affronted.

She backed off, "No…I mean, sure. It's nice. That old one was too big you know. They say an overly large belt buckle means you're compensating." she was chuckling now.

He winked at her and replied in an overdone drawl, "Hell no, baby. I was advertising."

His partner choked on her coffee and Marshall laughed for quite a while.

***********

They watched hockey on Marshall's couch that weekend, and sometime during the second period he felt Mary staring at him. She looked perplexed and slightly embarrassed.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Marshall was wary.

"Did I propose to you the other day at the office?" She had been thinking about getting the check back from the reception hall deposit and the realization of what she said hit her like a bucket of cold water. No wonder he had that weird look on his face.

"I don't remember…did you?" he lied and slid a sideways glance at her, always enjoying the upper hand in these situations.

"Um, I thought I had said something that may have implied something…It's not important." Mary was flustered and trying to brush it under the rug.

"Well, if you do decide to propose, let me know so I'm actually paying attention, okay? I would hate to give you the wrong answer." Marshall teased her to let her off the hook and she laughed.

"What would be the wrong answer?"

"Nut shot!!" yelled Marshall as he jumped off the couch and pointed at the screen, distracting Mary, and the conversation a moment ago forgotten for the time being. The partners immediately grabbed their beers for a drink and waited for the slow motion replay to grimace in empathy and wager on the next shot. Mary's impression was dead on, and Marshall snorted beer up his nose when he laughed. The game went into overtime, but the two people on the couch were sound asleep, Mary strewn across Marshall's lap.

***** Oh...we all know the answer!! Way to leave her hanging, Marshall :) I hope you enjoyed the story...it was fun to write and all your reviews were wonderfully validating!! Any last thoughts? *****

***** Sources of info: Google Earth for Alburquerque environs, various climatological sites for weather info, Mapquest for the street names and city layout...and my graduate work in meterology finally pays off :D *****


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